So I have this theory about discounts and public transportation, specifically in connection with the TTC (Toronto Transit Commission), and I feel that I am qualified to make this statement because I take the subway more than anyone else in the whole world. Okay, maybe not, but I use it a lot. I ride the subway like it’s my job. I also feel qualified, as I have survived and successfully navigated (by proxy of M who does the actual navigating, but I like to think I supervise and encourage) the Manhattan subway network (or hell on earth, as it may be).

So here it is (are you sitting down, strapped in, pleasently drunk?):

My theory is that the TTC (or your local transport system of subways, streetcars, friendly camels and buses) provides discounts to uggos, trolls, mutants, and people who like to dress in the spirit of the Insane Clown Posse.

Now, you may be thinking to yourself, ‘Someone had a bowl of Carnation Instant Bitch for breakfast!’

And, well, you’d be right.

But seriously now – look around. On my worst day, hair uncombed, beer breath, missing shoe, returning from some random shindig at 6 a.m. on a Sunday, I still look and smell better than the majority of my fellow bus/subway riders.

Seriously, these people must be getting some sort of incentive to ride public transportation. Because they are the clear majority. And the smellier more chatty ones with dragon breath, and no apparent access to soap/shampoo/deoderent/toothpaste/manners  always, ALWAYS like to sit next to me. Or stand…how do I put this delicately…INSIDE ME. I may be pregnant right this minute as a result of an older gentleman with no boundaries and a real hard on for Cee-Lo.  There can be 30 empty seats or oodles of standing room, but no go. Perhaps they are hoping that my expensive perfume and coconut-lime scented hand lotion will rub off on them?

I’ve tried everything to dissuade the attention. I’ve faked a nervous tick. I mutter about my ‘overbearing parole officer who’s just so uptight’, and whisper “They’ll never find the body. I done hid him well” a million times, but to no avail.

I’m not saying only ugly people take the bus. What I’m saying is, if you’re ugly, YOU ARE ON THE BUS. And you’re sitting next to me.

Thanks, and don’t forget to tip your waitress.


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